


And Chaos Shall Be Our Sword

by Squinch



Category: Wonder Woman (Movies - Jenkins), Wonder Woman - All Media Types
Genre: Alistair is perfect, And chaos, Canon Continuation, Diana's not perfect, Dolos is just chillin, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I take my frustrations with the movie, Sort Of, and he deserves to be spoiled, and turn them into fanfiction, but I love all of Pedro Pascal's characters more, but i love her, consequences for our actions???, in my fanfiction???, making a bad guy into an anti-hero, maybe? - Freeform, never heard of her, or maybe Max wants to be a villian, what a surprise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 07:13:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29149515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squinch/pseuds/Squinch
Summary: The world almost ended, but all Max cared about was the world that he held in his arms.
Relationships: Maxwell Lord & Alistair Lord
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	1. World in Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the first Wonder Woman movie. Diana is such a wonderful character and it was one of the few times that I actually liked the female characterization over the male characterization. Unfortunately, this did not carry over into the next movie for me. While I certainly enjoyed watching it, there were many things about Diana that bothered me. While Max's character intrigued me with possibilities. So I wrote this. It was an exercise in giving everyone good and bad points, how one can be a good person and still pave the path to hell. In trying, just ever so slightly, to expound on how Diana was just a little bit wrong and Max was just a little bit right. All while putting an idea out there that had crept into my head during the movie.

At the beginning of everything there was only Chaos. It was beautiful in its unpredictability, in its destruction. But others crawled out of that celestial disorder, ones who considered themselves “Gods” and decided they wanted something of their own; decided to introduce Order. Which resulted in things like Suns and Planets and Life. And from Life came these beings that were a poor imitation of the Gods themselves. But the humans presented opportunities for Chaos. And it was glorious.

Something had awoken them from a bored hibernation. A call that pulled at them from their place in the depths. There was Chaos. Pure, unfiltered. Coursing through the very earth. A tidal wave, consuming the lives of these insignificant creatures. A network, a web. All spun and propagated by one single being. It was a vision to behold and it made them hungry for more.

Maybe it was time to wake up.

***

The world around them was in chaos. Debris littered the field, alarms rang through the eerie quiet, and smoke invaded the surprisingly beautiful day. It was maybe absurd that Max noticed none of it. Everything had melted away. And the world only existed in the circumference of his arms.

Alistair had burrowed into his chest. He didn't seem overly afraid. So brave. His boy was so brave and good and kind. And by God, Max loved him with his whole soul. He was truly grateful that Alistair was so different from his father. Max continued to smooth over his boy’s hair, gasping and crying still.

At some point they had ended up sitting down in the grass. Alistair in his lap, near falling asleep. The tears had eventually stopped, and the world was slowly coming into focus. And a feeling of dread seeped in as Max took in the world around him. The pandemonium had not just ceased when he had revoked his wish. The damage from wishes remained and at any moment Max expected the world to come crashing down on him; to take him away.

“Alistair.” He runs a hand through his boy’s dirty hair. “Alistair, we need to go.” No response. Max double checks to see that Alistair was indeed breathing and alive. Alistair was breathing softly, but completely dead to the world in a way that only a child could achieve. Max sighed, he felt that he too, could collapse into sleep and never wake up.

With a heave Max stood and picked up Alistair, stumbling back towards the road. The helicopter that had dropped him off was gone and while that seemed strange to him, Max put it from his mind. They walked in the middle of the road, the heat rising from the pavement combined with exhaustion made Max light-headed and dizzy.

An abandoned car came into view as they rounded the corner and relief flooded his senses. Max hurried and set his son off to the side, a hedge barely providing badly needed shade. He stood there and breathed for a few seconds, allowing himself to feel the ache of his body. He turns around and grabs onto the door handle and found it locked. Anger and frustration swelled up. Max clenched his hands and looked around. There. In the gutter; a rock.

The shattering of the window glass did not wake Alistair, though at this point Max didn’t think anything would. The image of men arming and launching nuclear warheads fills his head; for a brief second their thoughts joining his thoughts, desires uniting, fueling a rush of limitless power. Max shudders, the memory of utter euphoria and need rising up and overwhelming him for what felt like an eternity. Max stumbles on the curb and falls to the ground.

He just sits there and tries to catch his breath. Sweat trickles down his neck, damp hair curling slightly. The world sways, like stepping onto land after spending the day on water or one too many cocktails at a party.

A lonely car drives by and honks. Startling Max.

He moves to the car and opens the door, he sweeps glass from the seat, feeling numerous pinpricks from the sharp edges nicking his hands. The discomfort is ignored as he bends beneath the steering wheel, popping out the plastic cover that hides the car’s wiring. Max fumbles through the three connectors, finds the correct bundle wherein lies the red wire that was connected to the engine. Careful not to electrocute himself, Max starts the car.

He let’s the engine run. Only hearing the ticking and huffing of an older model. He cranks down the windows and clears out the back seat. Backing back out he approaches Alistair. Bending down, Max slides an arm under his son and hooks his other arm under the child’s legs. For a moment he just holds Alistair, squeezes him and places a kiss on top his head. Carefully Max maneuvers him, making sure not to hit his head on the doorframe, placing him on the seat. He closes the door and climbs behind the wheel.

Maxwell doesn’t know what condition the roads will be in, he tries to ignore the flashes of memories of wishes, and decides to avoid the main roads.

After an hour of navigating road obstructions and eyeing the dropping gas gauge, they pull into the driveway. The house is not a mansion, but the amount of money Max had poured into it would make a sensible person sweat. The neighborhood was quiet. Who knows where the day had taken them or if they were simply hiding behind their doors.

Max uncovers the hidden door key, leaving Alistair in the car so as to not have to juggle opening the door while holding the dead weight of his sleeping son. The house is how he left it before going to the Smithsonian Gala; everything was normal, even though Max felt like the whole world had shifted.

He checks his son’s room, it’s ready and waiting for its occupant.

Maxwell brings his son in, places him gently on the bed and walks back out of the house. Locks the front door and drives the borrowed car down the street, disconnects the wires and leaves it there for the police to find. Though, Max was in such deep shit that avoiding car theft seemed hysterical.

And finally. He and his son were home.

The soft colors of the house and fading daylight relaxed the anxiety that had plagued Max since the satellite. He stumbles into Alistair’s room and watches his son. He almost lost him today, almost hadn’t even noticed. Maxwell’s lip quivers and his eyes blur.

He collapses onto Alistair’s bed, lays down and wraps his arms around his child. Reality grays out and exhaustion yanks him into nonexistence.

_Lorenzano_.


	2. The Storm Amidst the Calm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to add a serious note before y'all start reading. I'm going to start talking about racial issues, poverty, child abuse (not all necessarily in this chapter) and I want to make if perfectly clear, I'm white. I might've been living in poverty for the past ten years, but I grew up in a well to do household in pleasant suburbia. So my writing is not going to be 100% accurate. If there's anything that you feel may be offensive, please kindly let me know. I feel very strongly that these things should be written and explored, but I will always be learning and taking an outsiders perspective.

The way Max woke up could only be described as sludgy. A headache was already pounding away.

His back cracks as he sits up and he realizes that he had fallen asleep on Alistair’s bed, legs completely off the mattress. The clock on the nightstand saying that it was already past noon. The room itself is empty, no sign of his son. There were toys strewn about, evidence that he had slept through Alistair waking up and playing.

Listening intently, Maxwell could faintly hear the sounds of the tv. He heaves himself up to his feet and stumbles out to the living room. Alistair is in his pajamas, a bowl of cereal forgotten by his side, two transformer toys clutched in his hands. He was firmly glued to the television screen. The ever present feeling of fear calmed down at seeing Alistair, who continued with life like yesterday had never happened.

Max ruffles Alistair’s hair, “You alright there, Ali?”

Alistair mumbles something, eyes not leaving the screen. Max huffs and steps into the kitchen. He puts a kettle on, warming water for a cup of coffee that he desperately needed. And a piece of toast. It’s maybe not the best, but he’s never enjoyed big breakfast meals.

Max sits down next to Alistair - after removing the precarious bowl of cereal to the sink - and gazes off, eyes lost to the present world. He’s almost too scared to think on the past few weeks. The exhilaration of finally being successful, of life finally going his way. Of crushing those that had looked down on him. He wants those dreams to be true so badly still. But - 

He glances down at his little boy.

But not at the cost of his son.

The cartoon had ended, and Alistair blinked owlishly around. His eyes alight when they land on his dad. He launches forward, “Dad! I’m glad you’re awake, I was getting bored waiting for you to wake up. Can I go over to Billy’s house? He said that they just got a NES and I want to play it so so so badly. Dad, please?”

A smile twitches into existence. A part of him never wants to let Alistair out of his sight. But Alistair only sees Billy every other weekend and Maxwell knows that the boy would rather spend time with a cool friend than cuddling with his dad all day.

“Alright,” Max holds up a finger, “but! You need a bath first. And pick up the toys in your room!”

The boy nods eagerly, “Okay, okay! Thanks, padre!” Alistair starts running out of the room, “I like your hair!”

“And remember to be home for dinner, Alistair!” Max shouts after the boy. He puts his mug in the sink, he also needed a shower. He runs a hand through his hair. Alistair’s comment finally connecting in his brain. Feeling puzzled he walks into his room, stripping out of his shirt and dress pants. He starts the shower and finally looks into the mirror. There was an overnight growth of stubble, but that’s not what caught his attention.

The expert dye job that he had just gotten retouched was gone. His hair was it’s natural brown color. Max combs through it, puzzled. It hasn’t looked like this in years. Maybe a result of the dreamstone, but for the life of him Max couldn’t think why that was. An odd side effect, but compared to the addicting need to grant wishes and obtain payment, it hardly warranted a second thought.

Max stepped into the shower. The spray pounding into sore flesh. He leans against the wall, pushing all thoughts away. The only focus being the staccato of water droplets. The steam so thick it nearly choked him.

For minutes he stands there, lost in sensation. But the headache that had been plaguing him since waking flares up and lances through his skull. Max groans and curls up, the pain so overwhelming that it could only be endured. There was a pressure in his sinuses and a tickling sensation in his left nostril. He rubs at it, trying to relieve some of the pressure.

When he pulls his hand away, Max spots the blood, the shower diluting and washing it down the drain. As if sight and acknowledgement was the trigger, the trickle of blood turns into a heavy flow. He leans forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, grateful that this was happening in the shower.

Ten long minutes pass before the nosebleed lessens, but the pain was still pounding behind his eyes. Max fumbles with the water controls, turning the water off. He stumbles out and collapses onto the bed still wet; he buries his face into a pillow, trying to blot out the sun shining in.

A door slams in the house, footsteps running around, “Dad! I’m going over to Billy’s!”

Max lifts his head, “Be back by dinner, Alistair!” Eyes stinging slightly, “I love you.”

“Love you too, dad! Bye!”

The front door opens and slams shut and the house is quiet.

Max closes his eyes and falls asleep.

It was vast, limitless. There was chaos, but if one looked long enough, they could see the cosmic patterns that took eons to repeat. There was no end to it, nor, did he imagine, was there a beginning.

It was beautiful.

What a sensation, to feel so individual, so finite in the face of infinity, but to also feel a part of the whole. Like his whole being was stretching from one eternity to the next.

_Maxwell_.

Max cast about. Looking around. Not seeing the origin of the voice.

_Maxwell Lorenzano_.

It was close now. Right next to him.

_Max. Let’s have a **chat**_.

Max jolted awake.

Late afternoon light was filtering through the leaves and dappling shadows onto the carpet. He was dry, but his sheets were still damp. And as he sat up, Max realized his heart was beating quickly.

He puts a hand to his chest, and breathes deeply until the beat returns to a normal rhythm.

Max gets up and dresses into nice looking lounge clothes. He figured, it’s almost evening and it's the weekend. Also, if the FBI or even Diana are going to bust in and arrest him, Max might as well be comfortable while he can enjoy comforts.

He makes his way to the kitchen, in search of advil. The headache still exists, but now as a low thrum at the base of his skull. He would also need to order some pizza soon as it was almost dinnertime. A longing to smell his mother’s empanadas sneaks into his thoughts, but he dismisses it with a shake of his head. While he loved the food, Max remembers distinctly that the smell tends to stick to everything and that the other children thought the smell was weird and strange.

Max did not want that experience for his son.

He turns on the tv while thumbing through the phone book. The number for pizza delivery ear-marked and high-lighted. He picks up the phone, taking a minute to untangle the cord. The tv flashes brightly while he’s in the middle of ordering and he only glances at it. The culmination of the past few weeks are flashing behind two anchor people. A stone forms in Max’s gut. He quickly finishes placing his order and hangs up.

In a trance he sits down and turns up the news.

“ . . . While the phenomenon has stopped, the damage has been done. People, countries, cannot just forget what leaders in other countries have wished for, what their friends and family had wished for. Internal infrastructure is struggling to get fixed and it is those most in need that are suffering from supplies not being able to be transported.”

“What is the response from our leaders?”

“A UN summit is being organized. Hopefully to help cool down tensions between the US and Russia. But it goes without saying, the people of this country, of the world, will never be the same again.”

“And has there been any news from the White House on who or what was behind this catastrophic event?”

“So far, Bob, only silence; and the people want to know. No, we deserve to know. The president cannot remain closed-lipped on this for long. That’s all for this report.”

“After this commercial break we’ll be talking about what is your state’s emergency plan and procedures.”

Max numbly turned off the tv.

How?

His face was literally on every single screen in the whole world. Everyone should know who’s responsible. And over the years he had tried so hard to be a familiar face on television, this literally couldn’t be possible. At the very least, Diana and Barbara knew very well that he was the instigator in all of this.

The images from helicopters, of the destruction. Of the people. Guilt burst through him and occupied his brain like a heady rush. He never wanted to endanger the impoverished and suffering. Only to take from those whose wealth and good fortune bloated from their very being. To cheat his way to the top because that was the only way to be on top. Because his son deserved the world. Deserved to be the best, and to have a family, a father, that he wouldn’t be ashamed of.

But well.

The path hell, they say, is paved with good intentions. And maybe, if he had been more focused on spending time with his son, their heart to heart would’ve happened sooner. His son, who already thought the world of him. It’s a thought that leaves him near tears every time. It’s a conversation that Max needs to cement into his very being because the concept feels so foreign to him.

Alistair loved him, was proud of him for just being his father.

The idea is strange and Max feels like he would sacrifice so much more just to hear those words for eternity.

But.

This does not solve the puzzle that has been presented to him. Max hums, tapping his fingers on his arm, thinking. It was possible that someone might be in the office on the weekend, they had been so swamped lately that many employees had decided to work overtime. It’s possible someone there could answer his questions and things could be sorted before Alister comes home. He jumps up and snatches the phone, dialing a number he knows by heart.

“You’ve called the front desk of Black Gold Corporation, how may I be of assistance?”

Max lurches forward, “Raquel!” He chuckles nervously, “It’s Maxwell.”

“Oh, Mr. Lord! I wasn’t expecting to hear from you this weekend.”

“Yes! Well,” he brushes aside a particularly annoying lock of hair, “well I just wanted to check in on how the rigs are doing.”

“Oh, Mr. Lord, there hasn’t been any change.”

Dread and disappointment, “Oh.”

“Yes, all oil production is still on a steady incline. We finally got you scheduled to meet with all your investors and the price for the company’s shares are still through the roof. I have the portfolio on your desk for when you come in on Monday. Honestly, nothing much has changed since you left yesterday, sir.”

Max was bent over, head leaning on the countertop. Is this what a heart attack feels like? It feels like it’s trying to rip open his ribs and burst from his chest.

“Sir? Mr. Lord are you still there?”

“I - ” Max stands up, but has to continue leaning, “I - yes.” He clears his throat, “Yes, Raquel, I’m still here. Have you been keeping an eye on the media?”

“Oh well, of course! With all the craziness going on, you know? But, well, as far as news and reactions towards the company,” Maxwell holds his breath, “it’s all been largely positive. I mean, there’s always the naysayers, but it seems like public opinion is in your favor. A lot of people like your story. Starting from the bottom and making it big. It’s pretty inspiring. I mean, if I do say so myself, sir.”

Max breaths in, holds his breath, and relaxes. “Alright, thank you, Raquel. I need your attention on something for the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir?”

“I need you to move some money around and start funding relief efforts, maybe start organizing our own. Let’s focus on getting food, water, shelter, and medicine to places and then we’ll focus on fixing the roads and transportation after that. Do you feel comfortable organizing that?”

“Oh absolutely! That’s so generous, sir. I’ll start on that right away! Is there anything else?”

“No no, Raquel. Make sure you take tomorrow off, the rest of the work can wait ‘till Monday.”

“Of course, sir. Have a good evening.”

“You as well, Raquel. Thank you for your excellent work. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

What. Was. Going. On?!

Before Max could even think further on it the front door bursts open and Alistair near trips inside. He sits down in the entranceway, yanking at his shoes and socks, “Hi, dad!” he glances up and smiles.

“Hey, bud. How was the Smith’s?”

“Billy said his dad had to go into work and Mrs. Smith only got after us once. Once! And the NES, it’s so cool, dad! I want to get one so bad!”

“Well, maybe for your birthday, Ali. Ah, ah!” Max raises a finger at his son’s pure excitement, “Got to talk to your mother about it first. You know she gets the final say in everything”

Alistair pouts and scuffs a foot against the carpet, “But Madre always gets rid of the presents you give me.”

Maxwell sighs heavily out of his nose. It was an old frustration. Claudia knew that he would keep buying their son the same presents that kept “mysteriously” disappearing and she could keep selling those toys for a little something on the side. An old argument that Max didn’t want to think about at the moment.

“Well, perhaps it will just have to be a present that stays here.” He claps his hands together, “So! Pizza is on the way. How about we get into our pajamas and you pick out a movie?”

Alistair brightens and hops up and down, flapping his arms. “Yes! Can we make a blanket fort!? Can we?”

“Okay, alright, Alistair! But you better hurry, the pizza will be here soon. Don’t want the food to get cold just because we gave ourselves too much to do, yeah?”

Alistair nods his head in a way that makes Max’s neck hurt. The boy jets out of the entryway and into his room, slamming into several walls on the way. Max chuckles and shakes his head. He goes to the closet, taking out the pillows, blankets and sleeping bags. He moves chairs and sofas around. It’s been forever since they’ve done this, Max thinks sadly. Maybe. Maybe this is really all that they need. Even when a niggling thought itches at his brain that Alistair needs more or he’ll end up hating Max.

Said boy rushes in, pillow and blankets trailing and tripping him.

“Here, pick a movie while I change and then we’ll build such a fort that it would make the ancient Romans weep!”

The fort wound up looking like a gentle breeze could blow it over, or a careless nudge into one of the supports would bring the whole thing down. The pizza and drinks were also precariously set upon the carpet and Max eyed the whole thing with trepidation. Alistair was about to jump in, but Max was able to catch him. There’s one more thing he needs to do. He kneels down in front of his son.

“Alistair. Before we watch the movie I need to tell you something.” There was no judgement in the boy’s eyes, maybe some impatience, “I need to apologize. I owe you an apology.” Max blinks and rubs his son’s arms up and down, “Mijo. I - I haven’t been the best father. I haven’t been around as much as you needed me to, as much as I’ve wanted to. I don’t want you to be afraid of talking to me, okay? You are so amazing. And - and I’m so proud of you. And I love you. And I’ll try my hardest to be a better father for you. Okay?”

Alistair nods. Looking at Max with those big eyes. Max leans over and engulfs him in a hug. God, he feels so inadequate.

“I love you too, dad. You already told me all this yesterday though.”

“I know, I know.” Max leans back and sweeps a hand through Alistair’s hair, “But I’m going to keep saying it, okay bud? ‘Cause I really, really need you to know. You are perfect just as you are. Now!” Max gently claps a hand on his son’s back, “What movie did you pick out?”

Alistair jumps into the fort with a whoop, snuggling into the sleeping bag, “Twilight Zone!”

“Again?”

“Well, you don’t have any of the Star Wars movies, dad! Billy has all three of them!”

Max starts the movie and settles under the fort, snug against his son, “Oh, Billy has all of them, huh? Maybe they aren’t that good.”

“They are! I know you like them. You took me to see the last two!”

Max chuckles, “Eat your food, Ali. We’ll talk about Star Wars later.”


	3. A Talk with Chaos

It was his house. Max realized. He was standing in the living room. The fort was still up, Alistair sleeping under it. But it didn’t look right.

It was like looking through a flickering, fuzzy television screen. Walls popped in and out of existence, sensations like static raced across his nerves. Looking out the window there was only stars. Eternity.

The view seemed so familiar.

“It should be.”

Max spins towards the kitchen, and there leaning against the counter is . . . himself.

The copy smiles.

“Let’s have a chat, Max.”

Max stumbles back, putting a chair between the two of them. They smile wider.

“This is a dream,” Max mutters.

They chuckle and shake their head, “You are asleep, Maxwell. But this is far from a dream. Let’s just say that it’s easier to talk like this while I’m still waking up.” They clap their hands together, “You’ve really impressed me, Max.”

Max’s hands were shaking, “I-I don’t -”

“When I created that relic, when I put my essence into it - I expected the odd bouts of chaos. The destruction of a civilization here and there. But the beautiful web of chaos and destruction that engulfed an entire planet, it awoke me. Awoke an intense interest in me.

“Let’s make a deal!”

Max clenches and unclenches his hands, “Are you a god?”

A smirk, “I existed long before gods stumbled along and I will be here long after.” They straighten up and meander over to the alcohol cabinet. The label on the bottle of alcohol that says whiskey, but the liquid that poured out was black, like a void, with thousands of lights and swirls of color swimming within. “The humans of this world think me a god. Some kind of mischief maker. But my interest is so much more nuanced. Drink?”

Max shakes his head. The “god” pours him one anyways.

The doppleganger takes a sip, hums and smacks their lips. Max looks down at the glass in his hand, fascinated by the liquid.

“Here’s the thing, Max. You kind of transmuted my dreamstone. And while you may assume, correctly, that I can just make another one; the situation here amuses me more. So take this as permission to keep my essence that has melded with yours.”

“I don’t want it!” Max lurches forward, “The price is too steep.”

They laugh, “Yes, steep enough that you actually revoked the power that you wielded. Well, maybe we can come to an arrangement.”

Max nods slowly. In actuality, he doesn’t think he has much of a choice.

The doppelganger Max cracks his knuckles and sits down in a chair, “How about I get rid of the compulsion? You use these powers at your own pace and desire.”

“And what is the price that I will have to pay in order to use this power?”

“You’re already paying it, Max.”

Max twitches violently. Fear creeps along his spin. “What do you mean?”

They chuckle and wave their drink around, “The headaches, the bleeding. They’re permanent. Your health is the price and you’re already paying it. And you will continue to pay it even if you never use an ounce of my power. So really. You might as well use it.”

Max sinks to the floor, “Why?”

“Well, really, it’s your own fault for thinking that a mortal could contain such power, I’m just making sure it doesn’t completely melt your brain. If -”

“No. I mean. Why me?”

“Oh Max,” they get up and crouch down in front of him, a hand reaching out and patting his cheek before ruffling his hair, “like I said before, you’ve impressed me. Your ingenuity, your cleverness. The ease in which you can manipulate others. I think you could do quite a bit with my power. Maybe we can tone down the planetary annihilation, since it seems that other godly beings take offense to that. But just think of the chaos you could sow?

“Think of all the injustice you could fix? The men in power that you could topple. The loved ones that you could protect?”

The possibilities swam about in Max’s mind. The excitement that bloomed could not be smothered.”

“And it would only cost my health?”

“Only your health,” they leaned in and whispered, “and you’re already gonna pay it anyway.” They lean back and slap their leg in a jovial manner, “As a token of goodwill I already covered your tracks! You’ve been wondering why no one has broken your door down and dragged you away? You’re welcome! No one remembers your involvement. The sudden success of your oil fields? It was a stroke of good fortune!

“These are gifts, Max. You’ve been dealt injustice after injustice, it’s time to correct that. For yourself. And maybe for others, if that is your desire.”

It hadn’t been before, but the idea touched a shriveled and starved part of his soul. Life is good, but it can be better.

The being made of chaos smirked, picked up their whiskey, and tapped it to his glass with a clink, “I think this is the beginning to a fantastic time, Max.”

Max stared at the liquid, then he lifted it to his lips, and slammed it back.

“Let’s put a little disorder out there in the universe, Maxwell.”

The flickering walls crumbled, his house vanished. Only the universe remained.

Max woke to the morning sunlight inching across the floor. His blurry gaze alights on the blanket fort above him, and Alistair asleep having slipped out of his sleeping bag during the night, his limbs and blankets akimbo. Max smiles and brushes some hair out of Alistair’s face. The moment was perfect and he yearned for it to last forever. Just this, nothing from the world outside. Just this.

The door smashes in, the cacophony jolting Max and Alistair into full wakefulness.

There, standing in the doorway with sunlight falling upon her like a robe, was Diana.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This story is all written out, so it's just a matter of typing and editing! If you'd like to ask me questions or just generally hang out check out my tumblr at [HazNerdz](https://haznerdz.tumblr.com//)!


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